Father, I can’t give up
by Astarii Amaranth
Summary: *One-Shot* Trunks, beaten again by the Android's, turns to his dead father for strength.


As anyone who's read my things here on FF.net can tell, I sputter out a one-shot of depression and drama every now and then. They usually become derelict after then, but my work is done, and I've completed these little scenes that play over in my head countless times until I write them. I apologize for them never being long, in fact they're usually quite the opposite. But to me their moving, they make you _feel _for characters more. This little scene has helped shape my picture of Marai-no-Trunks, my favorite character. It is things like these, that make me feel for the life he had, the suffering he had to bear, the pain he had to go through. I think perhaps Marai-no-Trunks has the saddest story in all of the Dragonball series. I think perhaps he has suffered the most, been through the most, cared the most, out of all of Akira Toriyama's characters. His life must have been filled with despair and hopelessness, and he must have begged for death at least more than once. There will be another Marai-no-Trunks one shot in the future, I live for these scenes of inspiration, these little snatches of his life that move me. Hopefully they'll move you too, and hopefully you'll enjoy this one, one of my favorites that I wrote a while ago, and have been wondering if I should post it, sharing one of the most moving scenes of him in my eyes.

~*Astarii

He fell to the ground with a thud, and his sword fell beside him, spinning weakly several turns before it too, like his strength had, gave up. A raspy breath escaped his lips, and his body shuddered.

His head rolled to the side and he furrowed his brows, his teeth gritted in pain. He let out another raspy breath through his clenched teeth, and his body gave up the fight, his muscles slacking.

With a gasp his body shuddered again, and his fingernails dug into the dry, starved earth around him. With deep breaths he let his fingernails slide out of the dirt, but his hand made it no further, it was too large a strain on his body.

He was lucky to be alive—or, to him, unlucky. To an onlooker it would have seemed that the Androids had been merciful to him, but how very wrong they would have been. The Androids had only taken "pity" on him for one reason: if Trunks died, their plaything would be gone, and boredom would ensue.

The truth was, Trunks had come to the rescue when they began their terrifying invasion of yet another city. As usual, a fight had ensued, leaving Trunks beyond any hope of a victory, any hope of succeeding against them. Or, at least, leaving him beyond a hope of walking away from this fight.

Knowing their toy was losing his will they left with the knowledge that there would be another fight. At least they hoped there would. Trunks didn't believe there could be another fight. His body repeatedly shuddered as pain racked through his body, leaving him gritting his teeth and gasping for air.

"Father…" He coughed and rolled over onto his stomach. "Father, I need you now." He drew his voice down to a whisper. "I need you right now." He curled into a ball and gasped for breath, taking it in with a hiss.

"My body wants to quit," He continued after another spasm of pain. "but I don't. _I can't_." He fell to the ground, again lying on his back. "I can't give up now." His head lolled to the side and he tossed it to the other, feeling dizzy and too weak to stay awake.

"Father…" He swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy, blood dripping down his chin. "Father, I can't give up." He moved around drowsily, fitfully turning his head this way and that. "I can't…I've—I've seen too much death." He rolled over on his stomach and grasped his sword, looking up at the stormy sky that rumbled its mourning over the earth's favorite son. This son that couldn't defeat what plagued the earth.

"Father…" He gasped for air again, gripping his sword tightly in his shaking hand. "Father, if you just let me know you're there—let me know that you are there watching me…I will go on!" His grip on his blade faltered and he dropped it to the ground. His face kissed the dusty earth as his body lost its will. "I _will_ go on." He breathed. With furrowed brows his eyes slid shut, and thunder rocked through the sky.

****

He did go on, the earth's favorite son. His promise was kept; his vision of a time where people did not fear each day became a reality, and he was able to see its glory.

__

I hope you liked it, please review if it moved you enough to do so.


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